


Never Easy

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drama, Humor, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-02
Updated: 2007-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-03 09:26:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8706925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: After John's call in "Scarecrow," Dean has a vision before they leave for Burkittsville. Using Sam's anger as a stepping stone Dean pushes him away during the confrontation on the side of the road. Afterward the brother's reunite and head to Grafton, Ohio for a little R & R and a hunt that is unlike anything they've ever experienced. Third in the Secrets and Bonds series.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

Series Title: Secrets & Bonds – An AU Supernatural Series  
Title: Never Easy Part 1/5  
Author: Pet & Foxhunt2blue  
Summary: After John’s call in ‘Scarecrow’, Dean has a vision before they leave for Burkittsville. Using Sam’s anger as a stepping stone Dean pushes him away during the confrontation on the side of the road. Afterward the brother’s reunite and head to Grafton, Ohio for a little R & R and a hunt that is unlike anything they’ve ever experienced.  
Rated: R   
Spoilers: Takes place during and after the events of ‘Scarecrow’  
Pairing: Eventually Sam/Dean in future stories (Yes, it be Wincest!)   
Disclaimer: The WB owns Supernatural I don’t. *Razzberry* If we did we would see more nekkid!Dean and nekkid!Sam…okay fine we’re bleedin’ pervs! *g*  
Feedback: Yes, please since this is our first co-written ‘Supernatural’ fic---as long as it’s useful in a good way. Flames shall be condemned to a special hell where they all belong. *g*  
E-mails:   
Pet: prettygirlryoko@yahoo.com  
Foxhunt2blue: foxhunter2blue@peoplepc.com  
Author’s Note: Secrets & Bonds is a ‘Supernatural’ Series that follows the show closely, but should also be considered AU due to certain content. The AU content will be obvious from the first story and yet at the same time we will follow the canon timeline. We will leave the reader to decide whether this is true AU or not. We hope you enjoy our little Universe and its twists and turns. *hugs*  
  
previous Series parts and chapters can be found [ here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=crazyjoyfulgirl&keyword=Secrets+and+Bonds+Series&filter=all)  
  
***  
  
Sam was stuffing his bag furiously. He was angry and he had no problem letting Dean know that in no uncertain terms, but he was going to keep his mouth shut for now. He knew what he wanted to do, knew it with every fiber of his being. He just couldn't get Dean to think past his 'Yes, Sir anything you want Sir.' mindset. This was one of the biggest reasons he was so tired of this thing. No one ever listened to him even when he could be so right it was shiny with its sheer perfection staring them straight in their faces.  
  
"What's wrong with you?" Dean glanced over at Sam as he rolled up a pair of jeans and stuffed them in his duffel.  
  
"Nothing Dean." Sam replied automatically like a doll with a string one that constantly repeated the same phrases.   
  
'Nothing Dean.'   
  
'I'm fine Dean.'   
  
'Where to next Dean?'   
  
'Anything you say Dean.'  
  
Dean sighed and grabbed the last tee shirt and shoved it in his bag a little too roughly and yanked the zipper shut. "This is about dad isn't it? Christ Sam you need to just relax. He'll contact us again. At least we know he's okay."   
  
He yanked his jacket on and threw the duffel over his shoulder and tromped out to the car tossing the duffel in the back seat, and then returned grabbing two more bags and frowned at Sam. "He's safe Sam...for now." He voice was soft as he sighed and headed back for the door.  
  
"Anything you say Dean." Wow, Sam thought, as he followed Dean, he was getting damn good at these repetitive phrases. They should have a repetitive phrase Olympics he would so take the gold. "I want to drive." He did want to drive, he wanted to drive because he was angry, because he needed to slam his foot on the gas and let off a little steam. Plus, seeing Dean make the ‘don't kill my car’ faces would make his lifetime ten times over. He threw his bags into the trunk then held out his hand in a gimme fashion waggling his fingers.  
  
Dean rolled his eyes and chuckled, tossing the keys to Sam. "You better not hurt my girl, dude." As he walked around the rear of the car, he was suddenly blind-sided by a flash of pain that sent him stumbling forward and he fell to his knees in the gravel.  
  
***  
  
Apples.   
  
Fucking apples every where he could see.   
  
Dean spun around wondering where the fuck he was. He saw a shadow lumbering through the trees and he turned to run because he knew whatever was coming was not good. In the dim light as he ran he caught a flash of metal, something curved and wicked swinging from the hand of whatever was stalking him.   
  
Turning his gaze back to the darkness in front of him, he screamed out Sam's name and Sam was suddenly there standing in front of him.   
  
"What the hell is going on, dude?"   
  
He waved Sam to run and as he did, he tripped over something, hitting the damp leaf strewn ground face first. Pushing himself up he saw what he'd tripped over, a young woman with long blonde hair and every inch of skin ripped from her face leaving only the raw bloody mess of tendons and muscles. Her eyes stared up at him with a look of pure terror in their lifeless depths.   
  
Scrambling to his feet Dean gagged and lifted his gaze searching the mist shrouded trees for any sign of his brother.   
  
"Sam!"   
  
From the corner of his eye he saw Sam come around one of the trees, his lips parting as if to answer Dean. Instead, his eyes went wide as blood spurted from his lips.   
  
"Shit!" Dean yelled as his gaze lowered to see the curved blade of a sickle sticking out of Sam's chest seconds before Sam fell to his knees, the blade sliding from him with a sickly wet sound of shredded flesh and thick things no one should ever hear.   
  
Dean screamed.  
  
***  
  
"Fuck!" He caught himself on his palms and panted softly trying to get his bearings.  
  
Sam had already started up the car and was revving the engine, and then he honked the horn. "Come on dude places to go, people to check out and orders to obey."  
  
Dragging himself to his feet, Dean inspected himself for any damage, and then dusted the pebbles and dirt from his palms. What the goddamn hell was that, he wondered? With a frown, he yanked open the passenger’s door and slid into the car.  
  
"What were you doing back there? Triple checking my stuff?" Sam questioned as he backed out of the driveway and onto the road. "How long do you think this trip is going to take? I want to get this done so we can get back on the road and find dad."  
  
"If you got to know shithead I tripped on the fucking sidewalk---okay?"   
  
Dean grabbed the file of information he'd gotten on those names their dad had given them. He had to focus on this case and not on what he'd seen. He glanced at Sam from the corner of his eye and tried to calm the knot forming in his gut.  
  
***  
  
Pulling into Burkittsville without his brother at his side had been tough, but Dean knew that he’d made the right choice. He’d egged Sam on in that argument at the side of the road hoping beyond hope that Sam would take the bait and Sam hadn’t let him down. He’d figured that once whatever was going on in Burkittsville had been taken down, then maybe they could hook up again.  
  
When he’d seen the orchard for the first time what few doubts about what he’d done had fled. This had been the place in his vision, the place he’d watched Sam die, and his skin had crawled when he’d first laid eyes on that damn scarecrow. So much so, that he’d begun to doubt he’d make it out of this one alive.  
  
His doubts grew when he began to piece together the puzzle their dad had dropped in their lap. Even after he’d been run out of the town Dean had refused to give up because in his mind as long as the thing that was in that orchard continued to exist Sam would be in danger. That’s why he’d slipped back into town after sunset, why he’d loaded his shotgun, and why he’d saved that fool ass couple who’d refused to listen to him earlier in the day.  
  
After seeing the thing from his vision up close and personal Dean had been sure that he had to return to that orchard, but first he needed help to discover what its weak spot was. A part of him thought, I can’t leave it like this between Sammy and me, so he’d called Sam and given his final good-byes the best he could---the only way he knew how. He had no idea that the professor he was going to see was a part of it and that it’d been a set up.  
  
Now he was in a dark, damp cellar, his head pounding like there was no tomorrow. For him, he thought, there might not be a tomorrow, but whatever happened he knew Sam would be safe. Safe unless he decided to be a damn fool and come searching for the brother who had tried his damnedest to push him away.  
  
Just that thought made his stomach squirm and he decided one way or another that he’d survive and this damn town would wither and die. That was the only way Sam would be safe from the fate he’d seen.   
  
***  
  
Sam smiled again, slipping into the car. "You are such a ass do you know that?"  
  
"Maybe." Dean mused, just happy it was over, and his brother was back at his side. "I do know though," he chuckled as he revved the Impala to life, "...that I have a cute ass, but an ass does not the man make." Frankly, he couldn't put enough mileage between him and Burkittsville, Indiana. He hit the gas and roared out of the bus station with a grin.  
  
"You are such a egotistical bastard Dean. Your ass is so not that nice and do I even get props for stealing a car man? Because I think, I should be getting brownie points for that. Not only did I save your pretty, perfect ass, but also I stole a car to do it. I was a bad boy Dean---don't you want to praise me?"  
  
"Actually," Dean turned smiling at Sam, "...I'm damn proud of you. Never thought you were paying attention when I taught you how to hot wire a car. You know what bad boy looks good on you Sammy-boy."   
  
He turned his gaze back to the road and began whistling to himself. Sure he should probably be worried about that damn waking dream he'd had two days before, but he just didn't want to think about that. It was because of that damn thing that the fight he and Sam had had was so vicious. He'd known that Sam had given him the opening he needed to keep him away from Burkittsville. If not for that dream Sam would have been one half of the newest sacrifice to the Varnir and he more than likely would have been buried in a shallow grave with a bullet between his eyes.   
  
He'd never cared for the fucking visions when he was a kid, but now, well now he was getting use to them. They'd helped him save Sam twice and he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.   
  
"So what's next…oh brother of mine? A little driving, a little R and R, and then another job? Because I'm thinking we stay away from anything that could possibly possess or has a damn thing to do with couples."  
  
Dean's brow rose. "Couples...oh yeah." He nibbled his lip thoughtfully. "Why don't you get that laptop out and do some digging lil' bro'. Find someplace peaceful and maybe cool that we can go visit and just get some rest. Preferable someplace without fugly scarecrows."  
  
Sam shuddered. "Dude, you remember that whole comment a little bit back about you getting your brain scarecrow?”  
  
Nodding Dean grinned.  
  
“Yeah, well let's forget I ever said that alright? I won't ever be able to watch Wizard of Oz again. My youth is slowly going down the drain man." Sam pushed up, reached over into the back seat, grabbing his laptop, and settled back, opening and turning it on.  
  
He spent a few minutes tapping the keys, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth as he researched possibilities close to their location. "Okay, possible possession that one’s out let some other ghost hunter have at that one. Okay…here's a possible sighting on..." he squinted and chuckled. "What can only be described as the Pillsbury dough man come to life?" He arched a brow and glanced over at Dean. "You think someone got a little too high?"  
  
Tapping his fingers against the steering wheel Dean pursed his lips. "Oh, I don't know...that little doughy bastard always gave me the creeps."  
  
"That's only because you watched Ghostbusters too many times as a kid. Dad couldn't get you to eat marshmallows for a year and a half because you thought if you ate one that thing would grow in your belly and pop out." Sam smiled wide. "So I just think anything fluffy or doughy creeps you out on principle."  
  
Dean growled at Sam, then snorted. "Wasn't the doughy part that creeped me out it's those beady little blue eyes. Besides I recall someone not being able to eat a hamburger from Wendy's for a year because he was scared of the 'Where's the Beef' lady."  
  
"Dean that old lady was fucking scary. She was totally pushing that beef and I still think she was possessed and that beef was tainted with some kind of poison. Same thing goes for Ronald McDonald it's a big creepy food poisoning conspiracy---I'm telling you. Back then it was not safe to trust those commercials. Brain wash you into eating their yummy burgers and crunchy French fries." Sam shivered and clicked another link. "It was a health issue."  
  
"Health issue my ass." Dean maneuvered the car onto the highway. "So if that's the case why were you so freaked by Frosty the Snowman? Remember that little house we rented just outside of Chicago when you were---what? Five or six? We made that snowman in the yard, then we watched Frosty the Snowman.” Dean snickered. “You spent the night practically in my skin with me because you were convinced that the snowman we'd made was going to come to life and crawl through the bedroom window and turn you into a snowball."  
  
Sam growled pushing his lip out in a pout, his fingers beating the computer keys. "I wasn't crawling into your skin. I was just really close. I wouldn't have been so scared if you hadn't told me that if the kids didn't follow the snowman with his fun and games or sing his songs he’d get angry and turn you into a snowball---asshole."  
  
Dean turned to Sam with a hurt expression. "I am deeply wounded..." he pressed one hand to his chest, "...I would never say anything like that."  
  
"Look!" Sam pointed out the window. "It's STAY PUFF!"  
  
Dean nearly ran off the road, and then glared at Sam. "That...was so not...FUNNY!!"  
  
Tears of laughter ran down Sam's face as he nodded frantically. "Yes...yes...it...was."  
  
"Look college boy if we're done picking at Dean's psyche can you please find somewhere we can have some peace and quite." Dean growled and then added in a soft whisper. "Some place without a friggin' marshmallow factory."  
  
Sam wiped at the tears in his eyes trying to stop himself from going into a fit of guffaws. He managed it, but just barely. When he could finally focus again, he scrolled down the page and then stopped. He opened his mouth, closed it again, then opened it once more but nothing came out but a small squeak of laughter.   
  
"Oh, lovely..." Dean snorted, "...what did you find?"  
  
"A sixty-five year old woman from Grafton, Ohio claims that her garden gnomes come alive at night and eat her cats. She started with about twenty cats, because she's sweet and can't turn them away. She has ten now with one missing. She says she stayed up one night to see if she could catch who did it and she claims the gnomes came to life in her yard."  
  
"Gnomes?" Dean's eyes widened. "Garden gnomes? You have to be shitting me, dude. You mean those fugly little fat ceramic dudes with white beards and pointed red hats?"  
  
"The exact same ones." Sam turned his laptop and tapped the picture of a grandmotherly lady keeping her distance from a pile of five little harmless looking garden gnomes. "If she's right Travelocity is going to have to find a whole new mascot." He eyed the gnomes. "Nothing looks off about them and she could just be really old. Those cats could be running away for all we know."  
  
"My point exactly." Dean snorted. "So what you want us to go check out ol' senile Grandma Moses' gnomes?" He sighed softly. "Oh, well what the fuck it'll be amusing if nothing else."  
  
***  
  
"Stop calling her Grandma Moses, Dean. I told you I called her and explained we’d seen the article and were willing to check out the gnomes. I said we were paranormal investigators, Dean. No one in this town believes her and I was actually able to tell the truth to a certain degree. The least you could do when we get there is to call her by her name." Sam threw the last of his dirty clothes into a pile at the corner of his bed. "She even offered to make us cookies."  
  
"So what is her name sonny boy?" Dean questioned in a parody of an old woman. He grinned as he hunched over and wobbled over to Sam like he was walking with a cane. "Would you like a cookie little boy?" Then he waggled his eyebrows at Sam suggestively.  
  
Sam slapped Dean across the head. "SHUT UP!! She is not a dirty old lady she was perfectly sweet and kind" God damn it Dean was annoying the shit out of him, he thought. "Her name is Missus…" he sighed, "…don't you dare laugh Dean when I tell you."  
  
Dean mimed zipping his lips as he straightened up. Glancing at the ceiling, he started whistling.  
  
"Mrs. Robinson." Sam sighed preparing himself for what was to come.  
  
Dean's jaw dropped and his eyes went wide as saucers. "You have got to be shitting me. This is just..." he started snickering and fell back on the bed, "...to goddamn sweet!"  
  
Sam poked his finger towards his brother. "Don’t even think it Dean. In a few hours, we’re going to meet her and you say ‘nothing’---do you understand me? Not…a…word. You just smile, act polite, and say yes ma'am and no ma'am. She's old, she's scared and even if she's nuts you do not make fun of her."  
  
Nodding as he tried to swallow back hysterical laughter Dean rolled over burrowing his face in the covers. Seconds later muffled laughter filled the room as he kicked his booted feet against the bed frame.  
  
"Oh, that's it!" Sam growled, then jumped landing on Dean’s back, and poked him hard in the sides. "Stop laughing! Stop laughing!"  
  
Dean squirmed beneath Sam and laughed harder.  
  
Sam's eyebrows rose as he growled again. "Oh, you think you’re funny do you? Laugh at this you jerk off." He reached down, grabbing the waistband of Dean’s underwear and jerked up hard. Jumping off the bed, he grinned maniacally. "Nothing like a little brotherly wedgy to put your brother in his place!" He crowed his arms crossed triumphantly over his chest.  
  
"Son of a fucking bitch!" Dean squeaked out as he flipped over, squirming. "That was so not cool Sam. As soon as my balls recover you are going to be so much ground round!" He struggled to seat up, then pulled himself to his feet with a pained expression. Wobbling to the bathroom, he glared at Sam. Just as the door slammed shut, he yelled over his shoulder. "You better hope I can get my underwear out of my damn ass!"  
  
"You mean your pretty ‘perfect’ ass?" Sam yelled, the smile never leaving his face. "I'd be more worried about it being scarred for life. You have the ugliest damn underwear I've ever seen. Boy briefs my ass. Your one step away from panties."  
  
"I wouldn't say anything Sammy-boy!" Came a muffled reply from behind the door. "I saw those lace panties you're hiding in your duffel bag!"  
  
"What?" Sam snorted, his eyebrows rising. "Right…if there is a pair of lace panties in my bag you put them there, because you didn't want anyone to know you bought a pair. Get the underwear out yet or do you need assistance? They probably got lost in the vastness of your big inflated pretty boy ego."  
  
The bathroom door flew open and Dean glared at Sam. "You ever...EVER...do that again and I am so hanging you from a flagpole by your Scooby-Doo boxers!" He stomped across the room and began unpacking.  
  
"Man do not mock the Scooby-Doo boxers---that's just low." Sam muttered, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Watching his brother’s tense back as he threw his clothes about he sighed. "There's a local laundry mat want to go do laundry with me?" He asked trying to smooth things over. He hadn't meant to make Dean so angry. He was actually more amused than anything else it’d been a while since they just had a good old fashioned bought of brotherly play.   
  
Dean turned raising a brow with a faint sigh. "How long before we have to met..." his lips twitched, "...Mrs. Robinson?"  
  
Sam checked his watch. "Two hours. I told her one and it's ten thirty. She lives about twenty minutes from here."  
  
"Okay, I need some clean underwear before tomorrow." Dean sorted out what he needed to wash and shoved it back in the empty duffel. "Come on Dustin let's get going." He tossed the bag over his shoulder and headed out the door.  
  
Rolling his eyes, Sam stood shoving his dirty clothes into his bag and followed.  
  
***  
  
"Stop it, stop it, STOP IT!" Sam snarled taking the laundry soap away from his brother. "For the tenth time Dean. First you have to separate the clothes into colors, and then you start the water and make sure it matches with the clothes. You can't wash everything warm for fuck’s sake. After that, you add in the soap. You’re going to drive me to a very early death."  
  
Sam took the clothes back out of the washer, checked all the tags, sorting them into piles, and lifted two more lids placing the now sorted clothes in the appropriate washer. Pushing the quarters in he picked the right temperatures, and slid the coin slid back with a sharp click. "Now just wait for them to fill up half-way." He slammed all the lids shut.  
  
Rolling his eyes Dean hopped up on a washer, thumping his heels against the metal. "I should have known you were a priss when it came to laundry. I bet you use that fabric softener, too. You know that shit with that creepy little bear on it...ohhh...and you use Woolite on your unmentionables---don't you?"  
  
Sam refused to look at Dean and give him the satisfaction. Yes, he used fabric softener. Jess had taught him the joys of Snuggle. Growing up with men who hadn't cared about sorting or temperatures then getting a girlfriend who cared a lot had made a huge impact on Sam's life. Of course, he found the change made his clothes a lot less scratchy and a lot more comfortable.   
  
"No, I don't use Woolite." At least he could still get out of that much with his pride. He lifted each lid pouring the soap in and shut each one with a huff.  
  
TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

Series Title: Secrets & Bonds – An AU Supernatural Series  
Title: Never Easy Part 2/5  
Author: Pet & Foxhunt2blue  
Summary: After John’s call in ‘Scarecrow’, Dean has a vision before they leave for Burkittsville. Using Sam’s anger as a stepping stone Dean pushes him away during the confrontation on the side of the road. Afterward the brother’s reunite and head to Grafton, Ohio for a little R & R and a hunt that is unlike anything they’ve ever experienced.  
Rated: R   
Spoilers: Takes place during and after the events of ‘Scarecrow’  
Pairing: Eventually Sam/Dean in future stories (Yes, it be Wincest!)   
Disclaimer: The WB owns Supernatural I don’t. *Razzberry* If we did we would see more nekkid!Dean and nekkid!Sam…okay fine we’re bleedin’ pervs! *g*  
Feedback: Yes, please since this is our first co-written ‘Supernatural’ fic---as long as it’s useful in a good way. Flames shall be condemned to a special hell where they all belong. *g*  
E-mails:   
Pet: prettygirlryoko@yahoo.com  
Foxhunt2blue: foxhunter2blue@peoplepc.com  
Author’s Note: Secrets & Bonds is a ‘Supernatural’ Series that follows the show closely, but should also be considered AU due to certain content. The AU content will be obvious from the first story and yet at the same time we will follow the canon timeline. We will leave the reader to decide whether this is true AU or not. We hope you enjoy our little Universe and its twists and turns. *hugs*  
  
***  
  
By the time they pulled up in front of #6 Gingerbread Road, Dean was biting his lip so hard to keep from laughing that he’d drawn blood. Turning his head he swallowed back a snort and rolled his eyes. "You've got to be kidding me."   
  
The house looked like something out of a book of fairy tales. It was a small stone cottage rather than a house really with white shutters and matching scalloped trim along the roof and porch. The yard a mix of ornamental fruit trees and flowers with ceramic lawn ornaments scattered through out, everything from deer, frogs, and there were even pink flamingos.   
  
Dean twisted his head and narrowed his gaze at Sam. "Please tell me this is not Mrs. Robinson's house."  
  
Sam glanced down at the address in his hand again, nodding. "It's Mrs. Robinson’s house."   
  
He sighed wishing for the first time that he had never picked this job. This was either too idealistic or just a total nightmare. From the story, she was spinning to her name and now this house. The only thing that would bring it home was if she opened the door wearing a red cape asking them if they wanted porridge. That or if she lifted her leg and rolled up her pantyhose wearing nothing but lingerie. This could go either way. Sam wasn't sure which he would rather have at this point.  
  
"Next time I pick the job dork boy." Dean snorted getting out of the car and heading across the street. "Come on Sammy this was your idea." He yelled over his shoulder with a laugh.  
  
Sam got out of the car and walked across the street with a sullen attitude radiating off him. Yeah, he’d picked this one but he wanted something simple that wouldn't put them both into the hospital. Evil cat eating garden gnomes had seemed like just the thing. When he reached the door Dean was still chuckling.   
  
"Dean..." he started, "…stop laughing or I can't knock on this door."  
  
Spinning on his heel Dean saluted Sam crisply and flashed his brightest smile. "Aye, aye Captain Crunch."  
  
"I hate you Dean." Sam muttered, knocking on the door.   
  
"Fine. I can live with that." Dean grinned.  
  
A few seconds passed and then the door opened to reveal Mrs. Robinson. She was the epitome of the classic grandmother from the neatly pressed blouse and skirt to the cardigan and the snowy hair pulled back in a bun. Bright blue eyes sparkled behind wire rimmed glasses as she smiled. "Oh, my you must be Sam and this would be your brother Dean?" Her voice was sweet and soft.  
  
Sam smiled sweetly. "Yes ma'am I'm Sam and this is Dean." He gestured to his brother. "Nice to finally meet you Mrs. Robinson."  
  
Dean tipped his head flashing the elderly woman a smile, though he doubted she saw it. Her eyes were fixed firmly on Sam and the deep dimples that had appeared when he smiled.   
  
"Well it's so nice to meet you boys." She wrapped a motherly arm around Sam her smile brightening and guided him through the door. "Do come in I just baked a fresh batch of oatmeal raisin cookies dear."  
  
"Hey, my favorite." Sam chirped letting her lead him along. She was nice enough nothing strange. So far, so good he thought. "So Mrs. Robinson we’re here totally for you. We want to help in anyway we can. So if you could just start from the beginning my brother and I will figure this whole thing out for you."  
  
She led them both into a parlor of antique furniture, lace doilies, and ceramic knickknacks. On the table between the over stuffed chairs and the matching over stuffed sofa sat a pitcher of lemonade with fresh slices of lemon floating alongside ice cubes and a platter of oatmeal raisin cookies the size of small saucers.   
  
"Please boys have a seat." She set about pouring the lemonade and she spoke as she worked. "Those blasted gnomes are about to drive me out of my mind. I suppose I first realized that something was wrong when Minnie didn't show up one evening."  
  
Settling into one of the chair, Sam tried to keep himself from sinking completely. He stretched his legs out to anchor himself to the ground. He watched as Dean dropped on to the couch, nearly being swallowed, and he had to swallow back a laugh. "Minnie was the first of your cats to go missing?" He questioned as he tried to find the best place for his hands.  
  
"Oh, my yes. Minnie was my favorite." She handed each of them a glass of lemonade, but Dean swore Sam's was bigger. "She was a wild one liked to roam the neighborhood, but you could set your watch by her appearance every morning and every evening when I feed my babies." She settled down in the chair next to Sam. "She just didn't show up for supper one evening...not like her at all. Then Maxine and Rupert vanished. I was just beside myself with worry."  
  
Well, Sam thought, he finally had something to do with his hands. He accepted the tall frosty glass of lemonade, and then looked at Dean's smaller glass, his brow rising. Dean screwed his nose up at Sam and sank deeper into the sofa focusing on Mrs. Robinson's narrative as Sam lifted the glass to his mouth and took a sip.   
  
"Mmm…that's sweet." It was the sweetest glass of lemonade he had had in a good long while. It was so good he almost wanted to chug the whole thing. "So it was after Rupert that you first called the police? Or did you not call until you stayed up that night to see who was doing it?"  
  
"I did call the police, but they were less than cooperative." She snorted daintily. "That was when I decided to take the law into my own hands. I decided to lay wait for whoever was taking my babies." She took a sip of lemonade then sighed as she glanced over at Sam with sad eyes. "Don't you know I was settled into the back garden and around about midnight I heard it."  
  
Sam picked up a cookie and took a bite. God if anything Mrs. Robinson knew how to make the best cookies and lemonade around. He swallowed the bit in his mouth then spoke up. "What did you hear?"  
  
All ears now, Dean leaned forward in his seat. Mrs. Robinson sat her glass aside, her hand trembling.   
  
"Why it sounded like small children walking through the garden. I suppose at first I thought that some of the neighborhood children were playing a prank and then I saw..." tears welled up in her huge blue eyes as she stared up at Sam. She covered her mouth for a moment and then pulled a lace hankie from her cardigan pocket dabbing at her eyes.  
  
Sam set the glass and cookie down, stood, and went to Mrs. Robinson's chair patting her arm. "It's alright ma'am we’re here now. We'll take care of it. You just have to let us know what you saw and what you heard."  
  
She folded her hand over Sam's and smiled up at him. "Oh, you boys are so kind. I saw the hats first...the tip of their hats and they had grabbed poor little Buffy and ripped her apart. Oh dear lord..." her face paled, "...it was so horrid. They were eating her and grunting to each other."  
  
Sam kneeled down, slipping his hand down to pat her hand. "And what you saw were the garden gnomes? From in the lawn?"  
  
"Oh, my yes." She sniffed softly ignoring the fact that Dean was rolling his eyes as he attacked one of the giant cookies. "There was no doubt...their pointy red hats and their long white beards. Of course their eyes looked odd, sort of shiny like a cats in the dark and their teeth..." she shivered violently.   
  
Nodding thoughtfully Sam started to pull away his hand, though it seemed Mrs. Robinson wasn’t going to let him go. He coughed and smiled a little. "Was there anything else? Anything that you might be able to tell us to help us get this sorted for you? The more detail the better."  
  
From across the table Dean raised an eyebrow and swallowed the mouth full of cookie he had. "Yeah, details ma'am will definitely help."  
  
Her hand tightened on Sam's and she smiled, but this time there was a glint in her sharp blue eyes. "Why yes. I purchased those particular gnomes from an estate sale. I had no reason to think they were anything, but garden ornaments unless I was to believe those tales they tell around town about Mr. Crowley." She leaned into Sam whispering. "They used to say he was a warlock. Of course I never believed all that."  
  
"A warlock?" Sam repeated loud enough for Dean to hear pulling back just in time before Mrs. Robinson's lips had a chance to do god knows what to his cheek. Okay, this was starting to get a bit creepy, Sam thought.   
  
"Warlock?" Dean questioned around a mouth full of his second cookie. "Who's a warlock, dude?"  
  
Mrs. Robinson turned towards Dean and for a split second, he could have sworn she was glaring at him. "Why that nice man who passed. The one I bought the gnomes from."  
  
Sam managed to yank his hand away before Mrs. Robinson turned back standing quickly, and backed up a few steps. "His name was Mr. Crowley."  
  
"No shit?" Dean snorted. "You mean like Aleister Crowley the father of modern black magic?" Then he frowned at Sam. Damn, but his brother seemed a bit jittery, he thought.  
  
"Well I don't know son." She smiled at Dean and then focused on Sam again.  
  
"Well it's certainly the same last name." Sam muttered as he rubbed his hands together. "So, Mrs. Robinson I think we have all we need from you right now. We'll be back later tonight to patrol and if anything happened we'll be there---alright?"  
  
She grabbed Sam's hands and squeezed them gently. "You do so ease an old woman's heart Sam. Such a sweet kind boy...I'm sure the girls are just chasing you everywhere." She grinned and there was nothing grandmotherly about it.  
  
"Not really ma'am, but thank you. I'm kind of on the road too much to have girls chase me. Actually..." Sam nodded at Dean trying to signal him with his eyes as he spoke. "Dean gets more girls than me. He's the one they flock too."  
  
Both of Dean's eyebrows shot up and a grin curled his lips. "Aww...don't listen to Sammy. He's a regular chick magnet. He's just shy about it. I'd say it’s the puppy eyes that do it for the girls."  
  
Sam growled low at his brother then tried to fend off nice Mrs. Robinson the best he could as her hands practically tried to claim him---all over. "No, really I'm not a girl magnet. Dean he's just humble about how nice looking he is. I'm more of a bookworm…stay in at night and read books guy. I'm not really into dating."  
  
"Oh, sweetie you were the kind of boy we girls took home to met mom and dad when I was your age. As a matter of fact you remind me a bit of my George." She snatched Sam's hand and patted it leading him to the front door. Behind them, Dean shoved as many cookies as he could into his pockets and chuckled.  
  
"Oh, well that's kind of you Mrs. Robinson." Sam almost squeaked as he was led to the door. He was ‘this’ close to getting out of here. He just had to get a little bit closer.   
  
She opened the front door just as Dean caught up and ducked around Sam. "Well Mrs. Robinson like Sam said we'll be back later. Research is an important part of discovering what we're dealing with."  
  
"I'll leave the side gate open for you lovely boys so you don't have to worry about disturbing me when you get back. But if you need 'anything'..." she glanced at Sam, undressing him with her eyes, "...you feel free to knock at the back door."  
  
Sam swallowed managing to pull himself away, yet again, and then plastered on his sweetest smile. "Will do ma'am. Thank you for letting us come over and ask questions. Also thanks for the wonderful lemonade and the cookies. We appreciated that very much." He started to back up towards the door, then down the steps. "We'll take care of this you just don't worry."  
  
"You’re welcome sweetie." Her eyes sparkled as she walked them out. "It's just nice to have someone who doesn't think I'm crazy."  
  
Dean trotted down the stairs rolling his eyes at the entire visit. He could not wait to get Sam alone so he could have a talk with him. Or rather so, he could comment on the entire damn thing.  
  
"No…no one here thinks you’re crazy." Sam turned because he couldn't quite get his neck turned enough to see that last step.   
  
Just as Sam turned Mrs. Robinson slapped his ass and chuckled. "I'm very glad you feel that way sweetie."  
  
Eyes going as big as half-dollars, Dean grabbed Sam's hand and hauled him down the stairs. He couldn't believe what he'd just seen. He had to be hallucinating.  
  
"Bye Mrs. Robinson." Sam murmured as he let Dean drag him away as fast and as far from that entire situation as possible. He jumped into the car and melted as far down as he could to ignore Mrs. Robinson as she waved and blew him a kiss. Oh god, oh god, he thought, this could not get any worse.  
  
Dean slid into the driver's seat of the Impala with the strangest expression on his face and turned to Sam. "Dude?"  
  
"Yeah?" Sam muttered not really paying attention or really caring. He just had to get away from this house and that old perverted lady like right this minute.  
  
He turned the key in the ignition and shook his head. "Gnomes are one thing, but she so wanted to tap your ass." Then he hit the gas, roaring off into the gathering afternoon shadows.  
  
Sam's hands lifted, covering his face with a groan. "Dean?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Was Mrs. Robinson trying to seduce me?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"Oh, god I think I'm going to be sick." Sam whimpered. "I was this close man to telling her I was gay next." Sam lifted two of his fingers to show Dean how close.  
  
"What?" Dean glanced from the corner of his eye with a smirk. "You're not?"  
  
Sam turned his head towards Dean his eyes shining with fire and brimstone. "Do…not…start…with me, Dean. You did not just have Old Lady Hubbard hitting on you or grabbing your ass---okay? So do not mess with me."  
  
"Nope...I didn't." Dean snickered.  
  
"I hate you Dean." Sam repeated his earlier remark, but it never got old and always rang true in moments like this. It kept him from wringing Dean's neck.  
  
"Yeah, I know." Dean smirked, a sparkle in his eyes as he turned the corner on two wheels, heading back to the motel.  
  
  
TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

Series Title: Secrets & Bonds – An AU Supernatural Series  
Title: Never Easy Part 3/5  
Author: Pet & Foxhunt2blue  
Summary: After John’s call in ‘Scarecrow’, Dean has a vision before they leave for Burkittsville. Using Sam’s anger as a stepping stone Dean pushes him away during the confrontation on the side of the road. Afterward the brother’s reunite and head to Grafton, Ohio for a little R & R and a hunt that is unlike anything they’ve ever experienced.  
Rated: R   
Spoilers: Takes place during and after the events of ‘Scarecrow’  
Pairing: Eventually Sam/Dean in future stories (Yes, it be Wincest!)   
Disclaimer: The WB owns Supernatural I don’t. *Razzberry* If we did we would see more nekkid!Dean and nekkid!Sam…okay fine we’re bleedin’ pervs! *g*  
Feedback: Yes, please since this is our first co-written ‘Supernatural’ fic---as long as it’s useful in a good way. Flames shall be condemned to a special hell where they all belong. *g*  
E-mails:   
Pet: prettygirlryoko@yahoo.com  
Foxhunt2blue: foxhunter2blue@peoplepc.com  
Author’s Note: Secrets & Bonds is a ‘Supernatural’ Series that follows the show closely, but should also be considered AU due to certain content. The AU content will be obvious from the first story and yet at the same time we will follow the canon timeline. We will leave the reader to decide whether this is true AU or not. We hope you enjoy our little Universe and its twists and turns. *hugs*  
  
***  
  
  
Sam turned his laptop around and tapped the screen. "Mr. Walter Henry Crowley. Had a stroke in his kitchen while supposedly cooking himself some lunch. He was sixty-eight and not a nice man by all reports. He didn't have many friends, but a bucket of enemies. He was reportedly once talked to about hitting children and teenagers with his cane when he went to the store. He had no pets and he was never married. Just had his house and apparently was rumored to be dark and mysterious…some even said he was a warlock."  
  
Glancing away from their father's journal Dean frowned. "Maybe they weren't far off. Looks like dad looked into Grafton at some point. He's got a few notes here...just general crap." He chewed at the tip of his pen thoughtfully, then poked at the page. "He has a highlighted notation here though...something about golems. You know what the hell a golem is...well besides a shriveled up hobbit that calls his ring 'my precious'."  
  
Sam lifted a brow at his brother. Dean knew anything and everything about pop culture. It amazed and scared him sometimes. "Are you saying that Mr. Crowley created these garden gnomes as little soldier golems to keep people out of his yard?"  
  
"Hell if I know, dude." Dean sighed rolling over on his back and propping his feet on the headboard, letting his head hang off the end of the bed. Staring up at an upside down Sam, he rolled his eyes. "You know how dad is with his notes. All that damn shorthand and its not like I know what a friggin' golem is."  
  
"Am I the only one who studied the things we fight and kill?" Sam asked as flipped through web pages trying to be serious, but it was a little hard when your brother was upside down and staring at you with his 'So what's the deal College boy' expression. "Golems come Jewish Folklore Dean. They’re magically animated beings crafted from inanimate material. Usually they’re formed from mud. They serve as primarily in metaphor either as brainless lunks or as entities serving man under controlled conditions but enemies in others."  
  
Dean yawned, then plastered a smirk on his face. "So maybe dad had it right. Maybe these little fuckers in your girlfriend's garden were made by Crowley before he died and now they're running amuck in Grafton with a taste for pussy." He flipped over on his stomach, his booted feet tapping out a rhythm on the bed.   
  
Flipping his brother off Sam lifted his water bottle taking a sip, and then choking on the water as it went down the wrong pipe over Dean's ‘pussy’ comment. "Dean just...don't speak...anymore...ever."   
  
Grinning from ear to ear Dean waggled his brows. "What's wrong Sammy?" He purred. "You missing Mrs. Robinson already?"  
  
"Fuck you Dean ‘just’ fuck you man." Sam muttered closing his laptop. "So solutions? How do we stop golem garden gnomes who were controlled by somebody who’s now dead?"  
  
Dean swung his legs over the edge of the bed and picked up the journal getting serious. "Maybe a counter spell of some sort? Can't let the little fuckers keep running around. If they eat cats what's to say they won't start biting into the local populace." He flipped a page and frowned at his father's loose scrawl. "Hey...dad scribbled down a number here and a name---Gilmore. Looks like it's a local number. What do you think, dude?"  
  
Sam tossed Dean his cell that sat next to his laptop. "I had the perverted old lady to contend with you totally got this one bro'."  
  
"Fine." Dean rolled his eyes snatching the phone in mid-air. "Quit being a butt munch already. I'll call and see who this Gilmore is and if they can fucking help us. I swear sometimes Sam you are such a pussy and in this town that can be dangerous as hell."   
  
"Hardy har…yes Dean we get it. Mrs. Robinson wants my young, tight little body and her garden gnomes like to munch on her cats. But you’ve utterly sapped the joke dry dude so give it up. If you would have had her wrinkly palms grabbing at your ass this situation would be a whole lot different."  
  
"Don't you know it lil' bro'." Dean snorted then dialed the number in question. Waving Sam to be quiet, he waited as it rang, then clicked into v-mail. A soft male voice came over the line.   
  
“You've reached J. Gilmore's line please leave your name and number and I'll return your call ASAP."   
  
Dean tapped his fingers on his thigh as he waited for the v-mail click and then started talking. "This is John Winchester's son Dean. Please call me back at 866-907-3235." He sighed as he ended the call. "Well it's a guy and his first initial or his first name is Jay."  
  
"Great so we have a lead, but he's not at home right now. We know who turned the garden gnomes into little cat dinner lovers, but he's dead. The little old lady who hired us? She wants me to make her the happiest elderly lady on earth. When I said I wanted a job that was laid back and easy, that wouldn't kill us. This wasn't actually what I meant. We aren't dying but it's sure making me wish I was knee deep in psycho spirits.” Sam groaned sliding down in the chair, his knees bumping against the desk.   
  
Dean studied Sam's slouched body for a moment and then sighed softly. "Look, Sam...if this guy is one of dad's contacts he'll call back real fast. It could be worse I suppose. We could be in the middle of getting eaten by those lil' ceramic bastards."  
  
"They would eat you first. You’re smaller and easier to take down. I could probably outrun them. Poor you though...stubby." Sam grinned, his kneecap knocking against the wood of the desk.   
  
Rolling his eyes Dean flopped down on the bed. "They wouldn't eat you because you don't have any meat on you. They'd get one of those long assed leg bones stuck in their throats and choke." He snorted as he stared at the ceiling. "Death by Sammy-bone."  
  
"You’re just jealous you don't have my bones man. But I understand it's tough being a midget." Sam muttered as he picked up his phone tossing it back and forth in his hands.  
  
"Hey, I don't have the girls complaining about my 'midget' status." Dean rolled over on his stomach, grabbed the remote for the television, and flipped it on.  
  
"TMI Dean TMI!" Sam pushed out of the chair dropping on the bed next to Dean. "No music videos or mindless cartoons. Try to find a movie or something."  
  
Dean glared at Sam, but continued flipping through the channels until he finally came to a stop with a grin. "Yeah this one is good. Alyssa Milano shows her tits in this one."  
  
"Okay, I take it back. Let's watch mindless cartoons." Sam grabbed the remote and started flipping channels until he got a fuzzy showing of Bugs Bunny being chased by Elmer Fudd. "Here, classics no one can turn down a good classic."  
  
"Hey!" Dean growled. "Jennifer Tilly is in that to and she's so fucking hot!" He stuck his lip out in a pout. "But I suppose Bugs Bunny is more your type...smart mouthed and funny."  
  
"No, Dean…see I can watch television and not be turned on by everything I see. Cartoons are just cartoons, man. Besides, if that were the case it would be like saying I got hot over you. If anyone is smart mouthed and funny it's definitely you. I would rather not think I get hot over my brother.” Sam tucked his folded arms under his chin and crossed his ankles watching Elmer shoot at Bugs and then smiled as Bug managed to miss the shot every time.  
  
"Yeah, whatever, dude." Dean sighed as he lay back on the bed, closing his eyes. "God knows wouldn't want that..." he mumbled beneath his breath.  
  
Sam turned his head and gave his brother an odd look. "What did you say?"  
  
"Nothing." Dean grunted rolling over so his back was to Sam. "Go watch Bugs already, dude."  
  
"Dude what the hell? You’re like a yo-yo. What did I say?" Sam didn't know what the hell had happened between talks of televison viewage until now. "You know I'm just riding you right?"  
  
Dean bit his lip to keep from commenting any further. What the hell was he thinking? This was Sam, his brother for fuck's sake. "You didn't do anything Sam...I'm just tired."  
  
Sam frowned, and then nodded turning back to the television.  
  
***  
  
Dean was startled when the phone rang next to his head jerking him from the light doze he'd been in. Grabbing the phone, he flipped it open as he swung his legs over the edge of the mattress. "Hello?"  
  
"Is this Dean?" A soft male voice came over the line.  
  
"Yeah, Gilmore?" Dean turned to glance at Sam who was engrossed in a Tasmanian Devil cartoon.  
  
"You can call me Jared. Can I help you with something?"  
  
"What do you know about Crowley in Grafton?" Dean leaned forward his elbows braced on his knees.  
  
There was a moment of silence, and then Gilmore cleared his throat. "Not on the phone. Meet me at my apartment 125 Wintercrest Apartment 3A. In an hour."   
  
Before Dean could say anything else, the phone went dead in his ear. "Well, that was weird."  
  
Sam turned off the television and sat up glancing at Dean. "Weird in what way? Weird like he was acting off? Or weird we think he might be evil, too?"  
  
"No---none of the above." Dean shook his head turning around to face Sam. "He wants us to meet him in an hour, gave me an address. He didn't want to talk over the phone about Crowley." He dropped the phone on the nightstand between the beds and stretched out. "You up to a little Q & A with this Gilmore dude?"  
  
"Yeah, I mean he might be able to answer questions that Mrs. Robinson couldn't. We already know what's doing it. We just don't know how to stop it. Maybe this Gilmore guy does." Sam stood stretching one of his arms straight out, and then the other flexing his muscles. "How long until we meet up with him?"  
  
"Well he said one hour so I guess we need to figure out where Wintercrest is then get our asses in gear." Dean stood, stretching, and wandered over to the laptop.  
  
Sam watched as his brother retrieved directions from the laptop. His fingers hovering over their dad's journal and then he picked it up flicking through the notes. "I hate when dad is all cryptic. He could at least scribble notes on these people. Bad, good, evil, don't go near them or they might eat your flesh. All that would be need to know information."  
  
"Have to say you're right about that. Dad is all kinds of cryptic." Dean closed up the laptop after scribbling down directions. "Think it might be the whole covert ops thing." Standing he grabbed his jacket and keys. "So shall we go see if Gilmore is a flesh eating zombie?" He grinned, waggling his brows at Sam.  
  
The journal in hand, Sam snorted and stood. "Dude if that guy is a flesh eating zombie and he totally picks me to nibble on I quit. I'm starting to think I give off some kind of scent that all kind of fucked up people or things are drawn to."  
  
Snickering, Dean headed out the door. "Sammy-boy you're just too damn scrumptious to the forces of evil!" He yelled over his shoulder. "Now you know how it feels to be me!"  
  
Rolling his eyes, Sam shut the door behind him, strolling to the car and slipping inside. "Please Dean you know all they want with you is to steal your skin or sacrifice you. I've had them hit on me and try to seduce me."  
  
Inhaling Dean turned the key, revving the engine and turned to Sam. "The forces of evil can't seduce me." He gave Sam a serious look, all business.   
  
"Uh huh." Sam gave his brother an odd look. For some reason he felt like Dean wasn't done yet.  
  
Without cracking up at all Dean nodded seriously. "They'd try, but to no avail, because my powerful sexiness would seduce them first." He hit the gas and roared out of the parking lot.


	4. Chapter 4

Series Title: Secrets & Bonds – An AU Supernatural Series  
Title: Never Easy Part 4/5  
Author: Pet & Foxhunt2blue  
Summary: After John’s call in ‘Scarecrow’, Dean has a vision before they leave for Burkittsville. Using Sam’s anger as a stepping stone, Dean pushes him away during the confrontation on the side of the road. Afterward the brother’s reunite and head to Grafton, Ohio for a little R & R and a hunt that is unlike anything they’ve ever experienced. A hunt that will reveal secrets that may destroy them.  
Rated: R   
Spoilers: Takes place during and after the events of ‘Scarecrow’  
Pairing: Eventually Sam/Dean in future stories (Yes, it be Wincest!)   
Disclaimer: The WB owns Supernatural I don’t. *Razzberry* If we did we would see more nekkid!Dean and nekkid!Sam…okay fine we’re bleedin’ pervs! *g*  
Feedback: Yes, please since this is our first co-written ‘Supernatural’ fic---as long as it’s useful in a good way. Flames shall be condemned to a special hell where they all belong. *g*  
E-mails:   
Pet: prettygirlryoko@yahoo.com  
Foxhunt2blue: foxhunter2blue@peoplepc.com  
Author’s Note: Secrets & Bonds is a ‘Supernatural’ Series that follows the show closely, but should also be considered AU due to certain content. The AU content will be obvious from the first story and yet at the same time we will follow the canon timeline. We will leave the reader to decide whether this is true AU or not. We hope you enjoy our little Universe and its twists and turns. *hugs*  
  
previous Series parts and chapters can be found [ here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=crazyjoyfulgirl&keyword=Secrets+and+Bonds+Series&filter=all)  
  
***  
  
Slowly walking to the door, Dean a couple steps behind him, Sam wondered if his brother was doing this to him on purpose because of his track record. He reached the door, lifting one finger he pressed the doorbell, turning to Dean. "Dean if this guy hits on me in anyway you’re so paying for my therapy bills."  
  
"Yeah...yeah whatever, dude." Dean rolled his eyes as he inspected his nails.  
  
A few seconds later the door opened a crack and the same soft voice from the phone drifted into the hall along with the strong odor of patchouli incense. "Dean?"  
  
Dean straightened up, peering into the sliver of darkness and frowned. "Yeah."  
  
The door closed and then there was the rattle of a chain being released. "Come on in---you and Sam."  
  
Flashing Sam an inquisitive brow, Dean turned back to the door pushing it open. Stepping inside one hand itching to grab the gun tucked into the waist of his jeans Dean took in the room. It was large and spacious and to be honest far to dark for his taste. The only light came from scattered candles and the air was thick with incense smoke.   
  
"Gilmore?" He glanced over his shoulder at Sam and shrugged.  
  
Right behind his brother, Sam kept his hand on the doorknob just in case. Sometimes it wasn't wise to slam a door shut, especially when you had no idea what might be waiting for you. He shrugged back at Dean, and then peered into the darkness. "Jared Gilmore?"  
  
"Back here..." the soft voice called, "...I'm in my work room. Oh, and it's okay to close the door, Sam. I swear I don't bite." Rich, deep laughter drifted from somewhere to their left. "And Dean you don't need that gun."  
  
Dean's brows shot up as he turned to Sam and whispered. "How the hell does he know I have a gun? And how the hell does he know your name?"  
  
Sam tapped his temple gesturing in the direction of the laugh. "Think about it brain trust. The man’s waiting." He waited a few seconds and then he closed the door, the click too loud, but Dean still had his gun and that’s what mattered. It was common knowledge that even if you were told everything was safe that wasn't the case most of the time. Especially, if the some one in question that was telling you, happened to be reading your mind. Which meant you really needed to stop thinking all together.  
  
"He's fucking picking through our brains?!" Dean's frown deepened. "That is so not right, dude."  
  
"Didn't have to pick." The voice was louder now and Dean glanced up. Now the voice had a face, Dean thought.   
  
Jared Gilmore was tall and slender with long rich, brown hair that hung past his shoulders. He appeared to be around Dean's age, but to be honest he could have been older. He was dressed in faded, worn Levi’s, a loose black sweater that clung to his lean body and a goatee surrounded his full lips that were twisted in a smirk. Sharp dark eyes filled with amusement studied them as he spoke again.   
  
"At least you're punctual. I could have heard you three miles away Dean. Now Sam he's a bit quieter."  
  
"Not telling me anything I didn't already know." Sam snorted as he moved closer, stepping around Dean, and stretching out his hand. "I'd introduce myself, but I’m thinking you don't need me to for some reason."   
  
Gilmore grinned and his eyes lit up. "I don't mean to be so pushy sometimes, my teacher tells me I need to work on that." He chuckled softly. "So," he turned waving them into the room behind him, "...old man Crowley's little bastards are running loose again. That's never good."   
  
Giving Sam a look from the corner of his eye, Dean followed Gilmore a little hesitantly. "I'd ask how you knew about Crowley, but like Sam said I don't think we need to ask."  
  
"Naw...you don't."   
  
"Alright so you know about our problem. But how much can you tell us about Crowley?" Sam questioned as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Because we just have reports on his character. That doesn't help us understand him or what he did on the private level. If he conjured these things, we need to know how he did. If we knew that, maybe we could destroy them. You find the source and you kill the little beasties. It's the usual way but since Crowley’s' dead it makes it a little harder for us."  
  
Crossing the room, his bare feet not making a sound, Gilmore stepped behind a long wooden table and began breaking up a bundle of dried herbs. "You were right to think Aleister Crowley, Dean." Gilmore's dark eyes lifted from the bowl he was busy filling. "If we're to believe him Walter H. Crowley was Aleister's illegitiment son. Whatever the case the bastard was a powerful warlock...fucked with some shit no sane man would." He picked up a pestle and began grinding up the herbs in the bowl, the muscles in his forearm flexing. "He had a nasty rep from the time he came to Grafton back in the forties." He blew a strand of hair from his face. "That's why your dad found his way here. Course he had the sense to know that Crowley was too damn powerful to fuck with."   
  
Dean cleared his throat looking around the room, his gaze settling on the floor and realized that they were standing at the edge of a pentagram. He stepped back and reached out grabbing Sam's arm. "What the hell...?"  
  
Sam looked down at the same time he was pulled out of the pentagram. "Okayyy...I'm off my game today." He eyed it and then looked up at Gilmore. "So get many visitors?"   
  
"Actually I do." Gilmore laughed nodding at pentagram. "That's just an amulet of protection. I and my partner provide supplies to some of the most powerful covens in the Midwest."  
  
"Right…okay. Well in the future could you provide that information ahead of time? Dean gets a little twitchy and I like my arms." Cautiously Sam walked around the pentagram. He had heard what Gilmore said but he wasn't taking chances. Never take chances another Winchester lesson. Always keep your eyes open.   
  
"Hey!" Dean snorted. "It just surprised me, dude."   
  
He walked the opposite direction of Sam keeping at the edge of the pentagram his gaze moving over the shelves filled with bottles of oils and bundled or powdered herbs. Stopping at a glass case, Dean leaned in checking out the items on display, daggers, jewelry, bowls, and charms. Glancing up he caught Sam's gaze across the room.  
  
"My partner is an artist. Those are his work." Gilmore sat the pestle aside and began measuring out the ground herb out into small glass vials. "I take care of the herbs, oils, and candles. Wolf does the metal work and the crystals."  
  
Sam just nodded watching Gilmore as he worked. "So...Crowley might be the son of the seriously dark Aleister Crowley. It would explain the reason why Walter was drawn to it if he knew who his father was. So our dad doesn't mess with him, but he knows about him. Why didn't dad have him in the journal? He writes everything in there."  
  
Head jerking up Gilmore met Sam's gaze. "I'd think that was obvious. There is power in a name and Crowley had enough power built up that he could have tracked your father simply by his name being written down. You're father was smart enough to know that if he recorded Crowley's name anywhere then he was putting himself and his sons in danger if he pissed Crowley off. You can't imagine the sigh of relief there was when the bastard finally died." He turned away his shoulders stiff. "I know I sighed though I would have preferred ripping the bastard apart with my bare hands."  
  
"So what's the deal with the gnomes?" Dean crossed the room stepping into the circle of the pentagram without a second thought. "You'd think a master warlock like that would be able to call something worse than killer gnomes up." He snorted.  
  
Sam nodded thoughtfully, he’d wondered about that himself. If Crowley were as powerful as Gilmore claimed, he would have been able to do far worse things. Moreover, since his reputation wasn't one of kindness, then it made the fact that the worst thing the man ever did was call up gnome golems fall flat. "That's what I'm wondering."  
  
Turning Gilmore sighed, brushing hair from his eyes. "He did far much more than you'll ever know. He was a master and trust me he wouldn't have lived as long as he did if he hadn't been low key." His eyes glittered. "His specialty was long distance assassinations. Someone pissed you off and you wanted vengeance he was the man to go, too. I should know." He turned away and pulled down a bundle of dried angelica.  
  
With a growl of frustration, Dean stepped into Gilmore's space. "That so? Mind telling us exactly how you would know?"  
  
Gilmore turned getting in Dean's face. "No, I don't, but frankly that isn't any of your business." His eyes narrowed. "It would be like me asking you why you thought your 'brother' was called by those spirits in Mississippi---too damn personal."  
  
Mouth falling open Sam frowned. He looked at Gilmore and then he looked at Dean. He stared at Dean for what seemed like forever, then his body and mind came back to life. "What?" Unfolding his arms Sam stepped into the pentagram closer to the both of them. The pentagram was the least of his worries now.   
  
"What do you mean? What he thought?" Sam’s gaze shifted to Dean. "What did you think?"  
  
Spinning on his heel Dean growled low in his throat. "Nothing. He's full of shit." He moved to the window staring out at the street, his arms wrapped around his chest.   
  
"Dude!" Sam snapped in annoyance as he glanced back at Gilmore, squinting as if he could read his mind. He shook his head and sighed. "What does he think?" Dean might not want to say it, Sam thought, but Gilmore might.  
  
Gilmore frowned. "It's not my place to say, but you already know."  
  
Sam shook his head in disbelief. "I...what? No I don't know. I have no idea what you’re talking about."  
  
"Suppression is something you Winchesters are good at." Gilmore snorted his gaze focusing on Dean's stiff back. "Some of you more so than others. But then you aren't here so I can psycho-analyze you---are you?"  
  
Following Gilmore's eyes as they drifted to his brother’s back, he nodded stupidly. He had no idea what was going on here, but he knew Dean and he was holding back. Something that Sam now desperately wanted to know about. "No, that's not why we’re here."  
  
"Good. Then let's get back to the point." Gilmore moved to one of the bookshelves and pulled down a huge thick volume bound in black leather, a silver pentagram stamped into the cover. "This is my mother's Book of Shadows." He sat it down on the table and opened it, his long fingers moving over the pages with reverence.  
  
Sam moved towards the table, but before he made it there, a picture flashed before his eyes. For a second, he thought maybe it was another vision. He wasn't sleeping though. Before he could question it another one popped into his head and he saw himself.   
  
He was walking and he recognized the area. It was the river, only it was night now and he heard himself say ‘yes’ and he swallowed. "Do you have a bathroom?"   
  
Glancing up from the pages he was skimming, Gilmore pointed to a closed door across the room. "There. Are you okay?" He frowned.  
  
Those simple words caught Dean's attention finally and the expression on Sam's face set off all his alert systems. "Sammy?"  
  
Sam lifted his arm, fending off his brother’s concern, then turned quickly. Opening the door, he darted inside quickly, slamming the door behind him. He lowered to the floor drawing his knees up and resting his chin on top of them. Closing his eyes tight, he waited, but he didn't have to wait long.   
  
Again, he saw himself stepping into the water, and then slowly submersing himself. As he watched the water close over his head and pull him under, Sam could hear their voices telling him they would set him free. A part of him remembered with perfect clarity that he’d wanted that more than anything, but why had he wanted it?   
  
Why?   
  
That answer he couldn't dig up because there was still a complete void, a black nothingness where he wanted light. This was his own mind and even it seemed to be keeping secrets from him. This was utter bullshit.   
  
"What's going on? Why can't I remember?" He muttered into his denim-covered knees.  
  
A soft knock vibrated through the door. "Sam...may I come in?" Gilmore's voice was soft and in the background, Dean was saying something in a tone that didn't broker any argument.   
  
Sam sighed, his head falling back against the door. He knew he could say no, but he also knew if Gilmore didn't come in it was only a matter of time before Dean did. He stood and moved away from the door. "Yeah."  
  
There was the sound of scuffling feet and then Gilmore hissed something beneath his breath. That was quickly followed by a biting curse from Dean and the one word that was audible was 'brother'. A couple of seconds passed, whispering voices beyond the door, and then the door opened Gilmore slipping inside and shutting it behind him.   
  
"You're brother is one stubborn bastard. You do realize that?" He settled on the edge of the bathtub, his elbows resting on his knees, and his chin cradled in his palms. "So shall we talk?"  
  
Sam couldn't look Gilmore in the eyes for some reason. He couldn't figure it out, but he knew the last thing he could do at that exact moment was look at him. When he spoke his voice was soft and confused. "I know he's stubborn. Always has been, always will be. If Dean is one thing, he's never changing. He'll be that Dean for the rest of his life. It drives me crazy but I'm used to it." He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, and then lifted a hand to the back of his neck scratching. "Don't know what to talk about...not really. I think that's the problem."  
  
Gilmore sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Maybe from the beginning. Does Dean know?" His voice was soft a hint of an accent that Sam hadn't noticed before.  
  
Sam glanced up into Gilmore’s eyes he didn't even try to stop himself this time. "Know what?" He was so confused, so damned confused. "If I had a beginning. If I had ‘any’ idea what you thought I needed to say I would say it. I'm not Dean I don't bottle. I feel something and I tell you. There's not much I don't say. "  
  
"Sometimes there are things we hide from ourselves because we find them to hard to contemplate." Gilmore met Sam's confused gaze. "Does Dean know how you feel about him Sam? I mean truly feel?"  
  
Squinting, Sam’s mouth opened and closed, his jaw working nervously. He was doing this way too much lately. It was almost like he couldn’t comprehend the words that came out of people’s mouths or maybe he was missing some big picture. "Dean...is my brother. I love him because he's my brother. We don't always agree and sometimes we fight. But, we’re brothers and we’re Winchesters. Of course Dean knows that."  
  
"It's far more than just that Sam." Gilmore's eyes shimmered with a deep sadness edged with pity. It was obvious that Sam was far better at suppression than he'd imaged. "Sam look deep inside yourself and don't fear what you see there. To fear your self…is to deny your self. There will always be things that society doesn't understand."  
  
And just like that, Sam's head filled with memories from the river as he heard that last sentence leave Gilmore's lips. It rushed at him slamming him back and he hit the door his eyes widening. "No."  
  
"Yes." Gilmore stated softly. "You know it's true."  
  
Outside the door, Dean yelled, a hint of fear edging his words. "You okay, Sammy?!"   
  
Sam shook his head and tried to tune Dean out. "No." He repeated.  
  
Gilmore sighed softly. "Sam calm down. There is nothing to fear from the truth of your heart." He stood moving across the small space, grabbing Sam, and squeezing his biceps. "Accept it."  
  
Without hesitation, Sam jerked away from that touch. Then he watched in surprise as his fist raised and connected with Gilmore’s jaw, sending him flying into the tub. He threw the door open, stomped out right into Dean and then pushed him away heading out the door as fast as possible.   
Nearly run over by Sam and Dean wasn't happy. "Jesus...SAM!!" He yelled, heading after his brother only to be halted by a firm grip. He spun on his heel and growled deep in his throat. "What did you do to Sam?"  
  
"Nothing." Gilmore rubbed his jaw as he licked blood from his lip. "Boy does he pack a punch though." Seeing the anger in Dean's eyes, he sighed. "You know he cares for you a great deal and yet he denies himself. Go to him Dean…he needs you."  
  
***   
  
As soon as Sam’s feet hit the pavement outside, he was running. He ran as fast as he could with no destination in mind. He just knew he had to get as far away as possible from what had happened in that house.   
  
He finally stopped, bent over, and his hands braced on his knees. His breath was coming out in harsh gasps, he had no idea where the hell he was, but there was a church right in front of him. It was huge and it stood out a beautiful golden steeple rising into the sky that seemed to call out to him like a beacon. He stared at it in a mixture of horror and fear. It was as if he’d been led here because of the thoughts that filled his mind, he felt dirty, wrong, and he couldn't seem to make the feelings stop or disappear.   
  
"No." He whispered to no one.   
  
It couldn't be true.   
  
It was too disturbing to be true.  
  
***  
  
Dean had heard Gilmore's words, but he refused to admit what he was hearing. If he were to believe Jared Gilmore his little brother, his best friend in the entire world had feelings for him. The same feelings he'd been fighting since they'd left Lawrence behind them for the second time in their lives. Without a thought he was out and running down the street searching for Sam. He needed to find Sam now.  
  
***  
  
Sam dropped to the street on his knees his head cradled between his hands. He was facing the church but he didn't see it.   
  
Didn't want to see it.   
  
Didn't want to be judged.   
  
Didn't need a higher power to tell him how filthy his thoughts were.   
  
Didn't need to feel eyes searing his very being, knowing what he harbored deep down inside, where no one could touch---not even him.   
  
***  
  
After what seemed an endless twist of streets and far too much time Dean's gaze was drawn to the golden spiral of a church and he just knew. Jogging around the corner his heart nearly leapt out of his throat when he saw what was undeniably Sam, crumpled on the sidewalk, his face hidden. He sped up and reached Sam as quick as he could.   
  
When Sam didn't seem to react to his presence he knelt next to him and reached out letting his hand rest on Sam's trembling shoulder. "What's wrong Sammy?"  
  
"Don't!" Sam jerked his shoulder away, trying to crawl deeper into himself. "Don't touch me."   
  
Dean leaned back on his heels and studied Sam's slumped shoulders. "Actually..." he sighed, "...it doesn't matter what's wrong. I'm just worried." His voice was soft. "I'm always worried about you...always have been."  
  
Sam’s shoulders began shaking harder, his fingers twisting in his hair, and clawing at his scalp. "I can't do this…I can't do this."   
  
Crawling to Sam, Dean's heart began to crack. He was scared and yet at the same time he was absolutely certain why Sam was losing it. He reached out and pulled Sam into his arms, ignoring everything and everyone around them. "It's okay Sam...I got you..." He buried his face in Sam's hair and fought the urge to breakdown.  
  
He tried to pull his body away, he tried to push, but Dean wouldn't let him go. Dean only held him closer and harder to him.   
  
"Dean please." He would beg if he had too. He would beg to make Dean let him go. "I can't…you don't understand…I can't...you don't have any idea."  
  
Inhaling Dean lifted his eyes to the golden spiral of the church. "I think I might."  
  
Sam’s head jerked up. "How can you? How? Do you know what I want? Right now?" Sam gazed at his brother’s face intently, searching for any sign that Dean had any clue what he was thinking or feeling.   
  
"Probably the same thing I want..." he reached out cupping Sam's face in his palms, then leaned forward claiming Sam's lips with a soft, yet possessive kiss for the first time.  
  
TBC…


	5. Chapter 5

Series Title: Secrets & Bonds – An AU Supernatural Series  
Title: Never Easy Part 5/5  
Author: Pet & Foxhunt2blue  
Summary: After John’s call in ‘Scarecrow’, Dean has a vision before they leave for Burkittsville. Using Sam’s anger as a stepping stone, Dean pushes him away during the confrontation on the side of the road. Afterward the brother’s reunite and head to Grafton, Ohio for a little R & R and a hunt that is unlike anything they’ve ever experienced. A hunt that will reveal secrets that may destroy them.  
Rated: R   
Spoilers: Takes place during and after the events of ‘Scarecrow’  
Pairing: Eventually Sam/Dean in future stories (Yes, it be Wincest!)   
Disclaimer: The WB owns Supernatural we don’t. *Razzberry* If we did we would see more nekkid!Dean and nekkid!Sam…okay fine we’re bleedin’ pervs! *g*  
Feedback: Yes, please since this is our first co-written ‘Supernatural’ fic---as long as it’s useful in a good way. Flames shall be condemned to a special hell where they all belong. *g*  
E-mails:   
Pet: prettygirlryoko@yahoo.com  
Foxhunt2blue: foxhunter2blue@peoplepc.com  
Author’s Note: Secrets & Bonds is a ‘Supernatural’ Series that follows the show closely, but should also be considered AU due to certain content. The AU content will be obvious from the first story and yet at the same time we will follow the canon timeline. We will leave the reader to decide whether this is true AU or not. We hope you enjoy our little Universe and its twists and turns. *hugs*  
  
previous Series parts and chapters can be found [ here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=crazyjoyfulgirl&keyword=Secrets+and+Bonds+Series&filter=all)  
  
***  
  
Sam’s hands lifted, his fingers tangling in Dean’s jacket lapels, and forced their lips together harder. He used his teeth, his tongue, rasping them over Dean's lips as he tried to express and purge whatever this thing was out of himself. Nevertheless, as he began to lose himself in the kiss he was brought back down to reality---hard. Pulling back, he stood the back of his hand sliding slowly over his mouth as he shook his head.  
  
"What?" Dean frowned, pulling himself to his feet. He licked his lips tasting Sam, wanting so much to seize another kiss, not caring who saw them.  
  
A look of disgust flickered across Sam's face then he shook it off, lifting his hands and threading them behind his head as he struggled to keep everything in check. Taking a deep breath, he finally spoke. "Did you get what we needed to know from Gilmore?"  
  
Jaw dropping Dean spun on his heel. What the fuck had that been, he wondered? "No, I didn't get what we fucking needed?" He spit the words out, then turned back to Sam. "I was too god damn busy chasing your ass down. Dude, what the hell is going on? Why the fuck did you leave like that?" He moved closer, his eyes narrowing. "And what the hell just happened? And don't you damn well tell me nothing!   
  
Sam backed up giving himself more space between himself and Dean. He decided he’d go in order simply because he knew he couldn't get away from Dean until he answered all his questions. He’d just keep pushing until he relented and gave over the answers.   
  
"Well, then go get what we need. We still have a job to do Dean. I didn't ask you to chase me down---okay? It was just memories…from the river coming back---all right? I left because I needed space. I don't fucking get this and as to what just happened…I think Gilmore might have fucked with my head."  
  
"Oh, I see how it's going to be." Dean turned throwing his hands in the air. "What the fuck ever!"   
  
He headed up the sidewalk back towards Gilmore's apartment, his hands shoved in his pant pockets and his shoulders slumped. For one bright moment, he thought, there had been hope that he was right. For all he knew he was right, but Sam would never admit it. He swung a foot out kicking at a crushed soda can and frowned.   
  
"Fuck..." he grumbled.  
  
***  
  
Drumming his fingers along the frayed denim over his knees, Sam sighed. He wasn't going back into that house, not for any amount of money in the world. If he could pretend this was all Gilmore's doing like he’d told Dean maybe he could explain it away. He didn't know why he had walked back to the car. He’d intended to head back to the hotel, but instead he’d come back this way instead. Maybe it was so he could keep an eye on Dean, he thought, as his thoughts drifted back to all the times he had kept an ‘eye’ on Dean. Watched him. Watched him walk, watched him talk, watched him work, watched him fight, watched him kiss.   
  
He shook his head. "Fuck!"  
  
***  
  
Dean was surprised to find Sam waiting when he came down from Gilmore's apartment. He'd figured the little shit would go for a walk after all that's what Sam did when Dean pissed him off which seemed to be ninety percent of the time. He sighed and stopped at the bottom of the stairs and rubbed at the knot forming between his eyes with his free hand. At least Gilmore had the common decency not to poke at an open wound when he'd seen the look on Dean's face.   
  
Yeah, Dean thought, that was exactly what it felt like. He'd went to find Sam and he'd found him and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't seem to shake the feel of Sam's mouth on his and the taste of him still lingering on his lips. Swallowing hard, he shifted the bag over his shoulder that Gilmore had given him then walked straight to the car, pulling open the door, and tossing the bag in the back.   
  
"Got what we needed." He slipped behind the wheel and dug in his pocket for his keys. "Hope he knows his shit." He shoved the key in the ignition and sighed, staring out the windshield his lip caught between his teeth as he worried it.  
  
Sam stubbornly refused to look at Dean. He just stared out at the apartment building and as he did, he saw the curtain pull back and he felt Gilmore’s eyes on him. "I'm sure he does." He murmured his fingers tapping more insistently on his knees. "Let's get it done. It’ll be dark soon and they'll be waking up."  
  
Releasing a breath he hadn't been aware that he was holding, Dean turned the key and the revved the engine. "Yeah, got to take care of those fugly little bastards." Pulling out he headed back towards Mrs. Robinson's house. He was definitely in the mood to blow some shit up.  
  
***  
  
Staring out into the yard from the safety of the car Sam wished for the tenth time for these damn things to wake up and go all cat-eating evil. But, no---they just stood there with their happy faces and joyful demeanors welcoming visitors. "Okay, do you think they’re on to us?"  
  
Tapping out a rhythm on the steering wheel, Dean's eyes narrowed. "Maybe they need some prompting?" He turned and reached in the back seat grabbing the bag from Gilmore, then pushed the door open and slid out.  
  
Sam grabbed the handle to follow Dean, but his hand slipped, and he yelled out his open window. "Wait for me idiot." He tried again this time getting it, then pushed out of the car, slamming the door behind him. As soon as he caught up, he started questioning Dean. "What kind of prompting?"  
  
"Well, Gilmore said that blood is used sometimes to draw them out." Dean frowned as he headed for the side gate. "That might explain the cat thing. Cats go hunting at night, bring in whatever they kill, and bingo---wakey, wakey gnomes."   
  
"Okay, so you’re going to kill a mouse to wake the gnomes? Or a cat?" Sam asked as he tried to wrap his head around exactly what Dean was planning. They hadn't said a word to each other since leaving Gilmore's until Sam broke the silence in the car, so a plan still hadn't been hashed out.  
  
"Sort of..." Dean flashed Sam a smile. Stopping just inside the gate he dropped the bag and pulled out a container of horehound and one of dragon's blood. "We need to sprinkle the horehound on the little bastards once they catch fire...the dragon's blood is what will set their asses on fire. Gilmore told me that golems could be treated as a type of possession. Demonic spirits possess the earth they’re made of. So we lure them out...we dust them with the dragon's blood...then the horehound scatters the ashes." He shoved the containers in Sam's hands as he stood, then pulled out his pocketknife. "All they need is a supper call." He rolled up his sleeve and opened the knife, slicing open his forearm.  
  
Eyes widening Sam hissed. "Are you fucking stupid?" He wanted to reach out and grab his brother’s arm so that he could wrap his hand around the cut to stop the bleeding. He had an armful of jars with funky named shit inside to kill the now very much awakening killer gnomes though who were very, very... "Oh, they’re ugly dude."  
  
Grinning Dean eyed the little fuckers and started backing up. "Naw not stupid...just crazy like a fox." He stretched his bleeding arm out and let the blood drip down on the ground. "Come on you little fuckers...supper time!" He backed through the garden trying to get as far from the house as possible.  
  
"Oh, man on the list of all time great plans you’ve ever had this is not in the top ten." Sam muttered, as he backed up as well, keeping himself a little in front of and to the side of Dean. "Okay…dragon’s blood." He started to unscrew the labeled jar, keeping one eye on the snarling, razor sharp teethed, nasty as all hell gnomes. "Oh, god…I think I just saw foam come out of one of their mouths."  
  
"Dammit Sam come on..." Dean's brows shot up as he saw one of the gnomes lumbering towards him from the side. "Jesus H. Christ on a three legged goat! How many of these fuckers did she buy?"  
  
"I DON'T KNOW! You didn't know? Jesus Dean that is ‘need to know’ information. We have to talk about need to know information." Sam yelled throwing the lid of the jar away from him. He lifted the jar to throw the dragon’s blood on them, when suddenly they became super fast midget golem gnomes. "Fuck are they doing a Flash? Fuck they are doing a Flash." He panicked, trying to keep an eye on all of them as they spread out and caught up with Dean and him.   
  
"Son of a bi...OWW." A gnome grabbed onto his ankle chomping its teeth into him. "DEAN! Dean it's biting my ankle. DEAN!! It's an ankle biter!" He jerked his head around to see what his brother was doing and was greeted with the sight of Dean trying to throw a gnome who’d buried its razor sharp teeth deeply into his shoulder. "SHIT!"  
  
  
Dean could hear Sammy screaming something about ankles being bitten, but he had bigger problems. One of the little fuckers had his teeth sank in Dean's shoulder he didn't think he'd ever get it off.   
  
Tears of pain welled in his eyes as he cursed a blue streak. "Mother fucking little pointy hat wearing bastards!!"   
  
He stumbled backwards over a decorative rock and hit the ground all the air exploding from his lungs and the sound of a pissed off gnome screaming in his ear as it's body was crushed beneath him. From the left he caught movement and threw up his bleeding arm, just as another pair of demonic fangs sank home in his bicep.   
  
"FUCK!! SAM!!!" He slammed his arm back against a rock trying to dislodge the fucker, but it refused to let go. "Sam!! The fugly bastard is trying to eat me!!"  
  
Shaking his leg hard, Sam snorted as he tried to keep a hold on the jars. One of them was already opened and he needed the contents of the entire jar to stay inside until he threw it all over theses evil shits. "You think? Thanks for that info Mr. ‘I Make Myself the Buffet’." He shouted, and then muttered. "Moron." Looking down at the gnome who was still gnawing on his ankle, he growled. "That's it."   
  
He jerked his leg hard to the side then he brought his leg down hard, entrails and bits of gnome flinging all over the garden. Some of it hit him right in the face. "Gross…oh god that's…gross!"  
  
"Okay, fine! I get it! Stupid plan!" Dean screamed as a third gnome launched itself at him and missed his balls by mere inches biting into his hip. "Son of a fucking bitch! This is not how I want to fucking die!" He began shaking his leg hard like a dog that had just taken a piss. "Cuss me out later Sam! Do whatever you want, but get these fucking man eating gnomes off of me!"  
  
Limping, Sam rushed over as fast as he could, holding the jar out, and throwing the contents in an arc over the gnomes. They started to sizzle and shriek as he ducked grabbing Dean and rolling them both out of the way of the exploding fireballs. Sam covered his head, shielding his brother the best he could.  
  
"Shit..." Dean's muffled groan rose from the patch of wild daisies that Sam had tossed him in. Slowly he lifted his head hissing at the pain in both his arm and his shoulder as he turned to Sam. He spit dirt and grass out of his mouth and tried to suppress the urge to cheer as he saw a number of gnomes go out in a flame ball of glory.   
  
Next to him, Sam spit grass out of his mouth as well and went for the second jar, opening it. He was faced away from the fireball but he could feel the heat. "When do I chuck this at them?"  
  
"As soon as the fire goes out." Dean fell face first back in the daisies, the scent of rich black earth filling his nose. "Then you toss the horehound on the ashes..." he groaned as he tried to roll over on his back, "...that disperses the ashes." God his head hurt, he thought, so much for simple easy work.   
  
Sam let his own head drop and mumbled into the ground. "Okay." He waited patiently until the heat died down then he struggled and groaned his way back to a standing position.   
  
"Yeah, okay…I take it back this is so much grosser." There were piles of crispy, smelly gnome chunks spread out all over the garden. Lifting his arm, he used his jacket sleeve to cover his nose. "Totally more gross." He moved as close as he could stand to and then began spreading the horehound over the ash globs.   
  
Behind him, Dean pushed himself up off the ground with a choked moan. Swallowing hard, he immediately wished he hadn’t the taste of burnt gnome coating his tongue and invading his sinuses. "You're so right, dude...this is gross beyond words." He stood painfully and spit trying to remove the taste of gnome and peat moss from his mouth. "There is not enough Crest or Listerine in the fucking world to get rid of this taste."   
  
He limped over to where Sam stood. "You know you can just kick my ass now."  
  
Sam dropped the jar and just shook his head. He used his free hand to try to fan some of the smell away from him. "Nah…dude I think the gnomes kicked your ass enough for me. The only thing I want right now is a fucking shower and a big Band-Aid. Let's go I'll drive I'm totally less fucked up than you."  
  
"No argument there." Dean sighed as he held his bleeding left arm close to his chest. "I feel like I've been sent through a god damn cheese grater." Reaching in his pocket he tossed Sam the keys and limped through the gate. "No more gnomes...never again." He mumbled beneath his breath.  
  
"Easy job I said, something not too hard I thought. Fuck gnomes dude." He limped to the driver’s side then slid into the car muttering a few curses. He was going to have to drive with one foot because the other wasn't going to want to do shit right now. Starting up the car, Sam flipped off the smoke coming from Mrs. Robinson's garden, then pulled out heading to the hotel.   
  
***  
  
Parking the car Sam leaned his forehead on the steering wheel. "You can have the first shower. I'll get the kit ready."   
  
Nodding eyes filled with exhaustion Dean stumbled out of the car and to their room. Once he was inside, he headed to the bathroom leaving a trail of clothes as he went. Why in the hell did he even bother, he wondered? Even the easy shit turned into an all out fuck fest.   
  
Not even bothering to close the door, he peeled off his boxers and stepped into the shower stall turning on the water. Leaning into the wall he let the water pound down over his head and shoulders his hair plastered to his skull. He groaned as the water needled into the cuts and bites wishing he could just get stoned on pain killers and sleep for a fucking month.  
  
Sam followed him a few minutes later his hand grazing the room door as he pulled it closed behind him softly, the click barely audible. He lifted one weary hand clicking the lock and sliding the chain home. His gaze lifted following the trail of clothes from the door to the bathroom and he sighed. The bathroom door was wide open and the shower was running. Dragging his coat off he kicked off the shoe on his good foot and then dropped to the bed taking his time with the other. He hissed and swore under his breath until he finally got it off. He didn't even look at the sock. He just sat on the bed and pulled it off in one long fast swipe.   
  
"FUCK!!" He yelled, stomping his good foot against the floor and pounding his fists into Dean's mattress. "Hate gnomes! Hate gnomes!"   
  
He forced himself to take a few harsh breaths, and then sat up reaching for the kit. Laying it out on the bed he pulled out everything he needed and laid it out getting it ready for Dean. Sam pushed himself up and walked over to the edge of the bathroom door.   
  
"It's ready." He leaned against the frame unmoving his head near the edge. He could look in if he wanted, he thought, he could peek and say it was him just being tired and his head had slipped.   
  
A few seconds passed and amidst muffled cursing, Dean limped out of the bathroom a towel wrapped loosely around his hips. "Shower is all yours, dude."   
  
Sam nodded against the wood of the frame his eyes closing as he saw Dean’s shadow approaching. Dean dropped to the bed with a soft moan and his eyes drifted shut for a moment. Lifting his arms Sam slowly peeled his shirt from his body. As it fell from his fingers he popped the first two buttons on his pants, rolling his head on the frame and glanced over at his brother on the bed.   
  
"Do whatever you can and I got the rest once I'm out."   
  
A soft grunt was all the answer Dean could muster. Sam jerked around slipping into the bathroom and his pants flew out the door a few seconds later. Stepping into the shower, the water hissing on, Sam groaned as it hit him full force.   
  
He laid his head on the shower stall wall with a sigh. "Hate…gnomes."  
  
  
***  
  
As soon as he heard the water go on Dean slowly sat up and rummaged through the kit, pulling out antibiotic cream and gauze. He managed to clean the knife wound and wrapped it in gauze. His shoulder Sam would have to do he thought as he cleaned and wrapped the bite in his left bicep. He was so fucking exhausted, he thought as he glanced at the bathroom door before he unknotted the towel and let it slide down to reveal the ragged bite on his hip.   
  
"Shit..." he grumbled as he tried to smear cream along it, but his right shoulder kept protesting. “Stupid fucking gnomes.” Dean groaned.  
  
***  
  
Scrubbing as fast as possible Sam washed as much of the dirt and gunk out of the cuts in his ankle bites as he could, then shut the water off. Grabbing a towel he slung it around his hips and ran a hand through his wet hair to just get it out of his face. He didn’t even bother trying to attempt to dry it as he walked out into the bedroom. He stopped frozen in his tracks and he just stared.  
  
"I'll get it." He murmured softly. "You'll hurt yourself."  
  
Glancing up through his lashes Dean grinned. "You should have been a doctor Sammy. Can't quite twist that far...fuck everything hurts." Dean straightened out the towel slipping down a bit further, though he didn't seem to notice.   
  
Sam swallowed and tried not to stare any harder. Dean may not have realized it, but not only was his hip exposed to Sam’s gaze but a nice curve of ass right along with it. Move feet, Sam thought, fuck you move. They seemed to listen because he found himself drifting across the carpet. He knelt down grabbing the cream from Dean and applied some on his fingers.   
  
"Try not to move alright?" His voice was to soft, because he was afraid if he spoke any louder Dean would hear the deepness, and he would detect what he was thinking. He tilted his fingers and began spreading the cream over the bite. "How's that?"  
  
A soft groan escaped Dean's lips, his eyes fluttering shut. "Heaven..." he sighed wearily.  
  
"Yeah..." Sam sighed as well, his hand dropping to the mattress.   
  
Picking up a gauze pad, he gently laid it over the bite. He wasn’t just fixated on that one spot though. He had a perfect shot of Dean’s hip and the swell of his ass from this angle. Things were flying out of that box again---things from different times and places. He wiggled his fingers trying to make them work and finally laid the gauze down muttering.   
  
"Dean?"  
  
"Yeah?" Dean's voice was soft and achingly deep.  
  
"Do you still have the taste of gnome in your mouth?" Sam asked softly.   
  
Dean opened one eye, his brow quirking. "God yeah..." his nose crinkled up, "...I even brushed my teeth twice."  
  
"I have something for it."   
  
"Breath mints?" Dean was looking deep into Sam's eyes now and a chill ran up his spine. That look in Sam's eyes was something he'd never seen before, he thought, but it made Sam look so intense.  
  
"Not exactly." Sam breathed out as he lifted his hands grabbing Dean’s head and brought their mouth's together.   
  
He pressed their lips together at first, and then he started to move them. Ghosting them over Dean's as his long fingers stroked back into the short locks of his brother’s hair. At first shock grabbed Dean and then he melted beneath the soft whisper of Sam's lips. His lips parted, his tongue darting out to tease at Sam's and he groaned at the flavor. Sam tasted like mint and a hint of salty skin, soft and full.   
  
"Sammy..." he whispered softly as he lifted his already bandaged arm, his hand cupping the curve of Sam's skull, and his fingers tangling in the damp silken strands of Sam's hair. He pressed his mouth harder against Sam's his teeth tugging at his brother's lower lip gently.  
  
Sam shuddered. "Dean."   
  
He let his brother tug harder on his lower lip, and then he pulled back and went for Dean’s. These lips, he thought, these lips had been dreamt about, pondered over and been made into many a fantasy. However, at the time Sam hadn't known, hadn't let his mind realize it. Now though, he knew everything that lurked in the shadows of his mind. It was all laid bare now.   
  
"Fuck...Dean." His tongue dipped just a tiny bit into his brother's mouth, but he couldn't push himself to do it. From now on, it was all lines. It would always be lines. Lines they could cross. Things they could do. How far each of them was willing to take this---whatever this was.   
  
Smiling against Sam's mouth, Dean let his tongue dart out teasing Sam's and trying to draw him in. Small steps, he thought, as his hand trailed down along the soft hair at the nape of Sam's neck. He pulled him closer gently and curled his tongue around Sam's in a careful dance.  
  
Sam didn't fight it, he went willingly, and he needed Dean to help in these moments. He just needed Dean but it wasn't that easy. This wasn't going to be easy, he thought, as Dean tangled his tongue around his and he moaned softly in his throat. His fingers tightened at the back of Dean’s head. Their bodies were closer now. Their heat swirling around each other and all they had were towels that were barely hanging on. Sam's skin flushed and his nose started to flare, as he breathing became ragged---in and out.  
  
Slowly Dean lowered back, pulling Sam down with gently hands, and moaning into the kiss encouraging Sam. His heart was beating wildly against his ribs as his hand slid down Sam's spine, his fingers ghosting down the curve of muscle, leaving paths through the glistening beads of water that still clung to Sam's skin. His hand came to rest splayed against the hollow of flesh just above the curve of Sam's ass.   
  
"Sammy...fuck your beautiful." He whispered as his lips caressed along Sam's jaw.  
  
Sam clung to his brother his head dropping to Dean's shoulder. "Please don't...god don't say things like that."   
  
He didn't know if he could take it. He didn't know if he could accept it. He could feel Dean's hand though at the curve of his ass and he wanted more than anything to react how his body was screaming for him to react, but his mind was a whirlwind.   
  
"Just kiss me. Please just kiss me." He could handle that much.  
  
Urging Sam's head up Dean looked into his eyes and saw so much conflict in their depths. Sam wanted this as much as he did, but at the same time he knew his brother couldn't process the raging heat that Dean knew he felt, because Dean had to process his own. Leaning up he pressed his lips to Sam's in a gentle kiss, nibbling at that luscious lower lip and sucking it between his own, his teeth scraping against the soft flesh. A whimper rose in his throat as he parted his lips and deepened the kiss, begging with his tongue for what Sam so hesitantly gave. Baby steps, he thought, or he'll bolt like a wounded animal.  
  
Sam let his tongue out to play. He matched his brother because for every stroke of Dean's tongue Sam was there. Every plunge Sam followed. He kissed Dean until he couldn't breath, and then he pulled back to catch it only to go back to the kiss. Their bodies were still but their mouths were doing all the work for them. He was losing himself in it. He was letting his tongue say without words what his body wanted to do.   
  
Panting softly Dean pulled back again his pupils dilated so far that his eyes were green ringed black. "God, Sammy...please..." he moaned and dove back in drawing Sam's sweet mouth to his.   
  
He'd dreamed of this for so long and yet the dream hadn't done the actual thing justice. The taste of Sam was salty and sweet, but with an earthy raw flavor, that sent jolts of heat straight south to his aching cock. His body was demanding and he was falling so deep into Sam he felt like he was drowning. Without conscious thought his hips rolled up into Sam's and he groaned at the feel of Sam’s need buried beneath soft terry cloth matching his own that was boiling in his own gut.  
  
Sam nearly bit into his own tongue and froze on top of Dean’s body. "Don't." He shook his head, pulling back, and reached down to tighten his towel closer to his body. He had let it go too far. That was his mistake, but he couldn't let it go further than it already had.   
  
"What?" Dean's voice was soft and breathy as his eyes searched Sam's and he saw the fear there. "It's okay Sammy..." he reached up his hand stroking along Sam's shoulder.  
  
Looked up at the ceiling Sam saw the chipping paint and plaster, and he just let out a stream of air. "Nothing about this is okay, Dean."   
  
His life was becoming like that plaster. Everything was starting to chip away and fall apart, but he couldn't stop it. This room could be fixed but the events that had just taken place never could. The biggest problem was he didn't even know if he wanted to erase them or pretend they hadn't happened. He couldn't wish it away. He knew he wanted it deep down. He wanted this, he wanted more than this, but he couldn't or maybe wouldn't take it.   
  
"Not a thing." He just wasn't ready.  
  
Sighing softly Dean closed his eyes. "You want to forget, but it's not going to happen Sam. This was..." he paused licking Sam's taste from his lips, "...something we both wanted. What can I do or say to convince you?"  
  
Glancing down, Sam felt like such a horrible person when his eyes met Dean's. "We’re not the same people Dean you know that as much as I do. I can't just do this. I don't know how you can ‘just’ do this. I mean come on Dean." Sam pushed up off the bed his hands shaky and running through his hair. "I mean I could say the obvious here. But do you really need me too?"  
  
Dean adjusted his towel sitting up and focused on the wall knowing what he had to say wasn't going to be easy. "You're right Sam...we're not the same. What do you think? That this is easy? It's not...it never was. That's our life." He sighed, leaning forward, his elbows propped on his knees. "You are the most important thing in my life Sam. You have been since I carried you out of that fire." His voice cracked as he hid his face in his hands. "Sam I know why you're scared...I'm scared too."  
  
Sam's chest tightened as he lifted his other hand to his hair threading it through his damp locks. Both hands dug deep, grabbing strands and he looked down at the floor. "Say it Dean. Say it aloud. Why am I scared? I want to hear the words. So I'm sure you know what I'm freaked out over. I want to be sure."  
  
Turning to Sam, his eyes shimmering in the dim light Dean spoke. "Because I'm your brother...because this is something people believe is wrong."  
  
"God!" Sam harshly muttered. He was going to throw up. "Exactly." Hearing it aloud just brought it right home, made it as real as real could get. It was now broadcasting all over his mind with big flashing lights and whistles. Sam wondered if maybe when he left this room that people would look at him and just know?  
  
Dean turned around fully his soul shining in his wet eyes. "Sam don't do this---please? I know how you feel, but please don't push me away. If I could make this different I would, but I can't. I'm just a man..." his words faded as he stood turning his back to Sam.   
  
He couldn't do this. He couldn't cry, not in front of Sam, and not about this. Sam was right. Both God and man considered what they were doing a crime. He inhaled, wrapping his arms around himself as he willed the tears back when all he wanted to do was scream to the heavens. He wanted to ask how something that felt so right could be wrong.  
  
Sam looked up feeling so lost. He didn't want Dean to be upset. He didn't want to hurt him. That was the last thing he’d ever wanted. Dean was so important to him more than he probably knew. And he loved---fuck he loved him so much. He loved him more than he should. "Don't be angry Dean. I just...I need..." His voice tapered off as he sighed going to his bag and pulling out a pair of sweatpants and a toothbrush. "I'm just a man too Dean." He wanted to hug his brother and he wanted to kiss the back of his head, but he had lost that privilege---at least for now. He disappeared into the bathroom the door shutting behind him.  
  
Swallowing hard Dean turned as the sound of the bathroom door shutting echoed in his ears. He sighed softly and moved across the room to where his bag was and pulled out jeans and a tee shirt. Dressing quickly he scribbled a note on a piece of paper and left it on Sam's pillow, then slipped out of the hotel room hoping that maybe some space would help heal the wounds that no one could see.  
  
~Finis~


End file.
